


Snowed In

by radicallyred



Series: College Collage [2]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Smut, no powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 14:33:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18780205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radicallyred/pseuds/radicallyred
Summary: Tony wriggles a little, settling his head at a different angle on Steve's leg. That's all the warning he gets before Tony is tilting his head and nosing at the shape of Steve's cock through the thin fabric of his pajama pants."Tony!" He barely avoids kneeing Tony in the face in his surprise, but Tony nuzzles again and then turns over onto his back to grin up at Steve, somehow equal parts mischief and sweetness. "I'm definitely not saying no or anything-" Tony's smile widens a little at this, or maybe at the love in his voice. "-but what exactly is it aboutTeenage Mutant Ninja Turtlesthat's turning you on?"





	Snowed In

It has been literal years since Steve sat down and watched a single full episode of _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,_ much less six in a row. Not that he's complaining: even if it wasn't a perfect, nostalgic way to spend the first snow day of the semester, he has Tony's head in his lap, Tony's hand curled around his knee drawing absent-minded patterns, and Tony's hair soft under his hand as he combs his fingers through it. Outside, the snow is falling fast and thick, showing no sign of stopping. On the coffee table they have hot chocolate with marshmallows, and Tony keeps reaching over to snag a soaking marshmallow from the surface of his drink, eating them one by one.

It's a sickeningly cute scene. They’re gross, and it's definitely nausea at this domesticity that has his throat feeling a little thick and his chest a little too full.

Tony wriggles a little, settling his head at a different angle on Steve's leg. That's all the warning he gets before Tony is tilting his head and nosing at the shape of Steve's cock through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. 

"Tony!" He barely avoids kneeing Tony in the face in his surprise, but Tony nuzzles again and then turns over onto his back to grin up at Steve, somehow equal parts mischief and sweetness. "I'm definitely not saying no or anything-" Tony's smile widens a little at this, or maybe at the love in his voice. "-but what exactly is it about _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ that's turning you on?"

Tony flips over again, this time to face Steve, and his fingers slip under the hem of Steve's t-shirt, pushing it up a little and kissing at the skin he uncovers. 

"The fight for truth and justice is a very passionate struggle," he says, and Steve cackles, his stomach shaking under Tony's mouth.

"Right," he says, smoothing back a piece of Tony's hair that's fallen in his eyes. "Okay. As long as you don't have a thing for anthropomorphic turtle vigilantes."

Tony pauses, like he's thinking about that. "Vigilantes? No," he says. “But in a world with anthropomorphic turtles, I’d be all over that.” Steve laughs again, harder, his head lolling back against the sofa, and Tony looks up at him with an expression of mock irritation. "Stop laughing or I can't suck your dick," he says, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Steve's pajamas.

"Stop making me laugh! Tony, we can't do it bare-assed on the couch, people sit here,"

Tony heaves a sigh. "You're right," he says, but he keeps on kissing Steve's lower belly, now with an open mouth and a sloppiness that borders on playful but is also still traitorously hot. Steve takes a deep breath, looking around for something, anything. 

"Here," he says, right as Tony's tongue dips into his belly button and his voice breaks just a little. He leans over, grabs the blanket slung over the back of the sofa, and Tony sits up enough to let him spread it over the cushion beneath.

"Off," Tony says, and starts tugging at his pants again before he can sit down. Steve manages not to trip over them as they fall to his ankles. It's a really good thing he gave up any sense of shame a long time ago with Tony, impossible not to, Tony's contagious that way because it's got to look a little undignified. But Tony is on him again the moment he settles back down. Tony smooths his hands up Steve's stomach--he's still wearing his shirt, he should fix that-- thumbs over his nipples, tongues his navel again until Steve tugs at his arms.

"Don't I get a little romance, first?" he asks, although his cock is already starting to stir. Tony hums an agreement and starts to slide up Steve's body, but he doesn't pull his head out of Steve's shirt to do it.

"Oh my god," Steve snorts, leaning his head back and wincing as Tony's head pops out of the neck of his t-shirt. He might be able to muster some annoyance if it wasn't an old shirt, already absurdly stretched out. The collar still cuts in at the back of his neck; Tony nips his chin. "Did you spike your hot chocolate?"

"No," Tony mumbles, against his mouth now. He nudges Steve's lips apart, licking just inside; he's wormed his hands up Steve's shirt too, and now his thumbs under Steve's jaw tilt his head the way Tony wants. Steve makes a soft muffled sound into his mouth, but he's only too happy to acquiesce. Tony's lips are the tiniest bit sticky from the marshmallows; Steve cleans away the sugar with little sucking kisses. Or possibly he's only spreading it around. He couldn't care less. Tony's pressing closer, and his skin is hot on Steve's bare chest, and then the soft flannel of Tony's pants brushes his cock and he surges up into the kiss. Tony breaks away with a little sigh, but when Steve tries to chase his mouth he shakes his head and starts to slip down, out of the poor abused shirt. 

"Turn," he orders Steve, who obeys the gentle tugging at his knee and twists his body, bringing one leg up onto the sofa and leaving the other on the floor. Tony settles between them, lying on his belly and propping himself up on his elbows. The sofa’s just a little too short for this: he has to bend his knees, his socked feet up against the armrest.

"Why-" Steve starts to say, about to suggest making the trip to the bed if Tony wants to lie down, but he cuts off abruptly when Tony cups the side of Steve's cock in his palm and mouths at it, wet and hungry.

"I was comfy," Tony murmurs, and he's turned his head to lick down to the base so his breath is hot on Steve's balls. Steve just focuses on not squirming too much. Tony is being an unbearable tease, brushing feather-light touches everywhere but where he needs them, scattering kisses over his inner thighs and then up to his stomach again. Steve fumbles to pull his shirt off over his head, give Tonymore access. 

Somewhere in the back of his fogged-up mind, Steve realizes the TV is still on, because he hears a distant Cowabunga! and can't help but erupt into giggles, momentarily distracted from the subtle torture Tony is inflicting. Of course Tony chooses that moment to take him into his mouth, of course. Steve's laughter breaks off into a groan, and his hands clench in the blanket beneath him.

Tony hums around the head of his cock and Steve hisses out his name, watching the way his lips stretch and his eyelids flutter and takes hold of Steve's hand and pushes it into his hair.

"Oh, fuck," Steve says helplessly, stroking just behind Tony's ear. The hair is so silky here, downy-soft, and Tony makes another noise, encouraging. Steve doesn't pull, but keeps his grip firm, the way Tony likes, a steady tension at his scalp when he moves.

The thing is, he isn't doing a whole lot of moving. Or, he is, but not so much up and down: he tilts his head to get different angles, here and there, but what he's really doing is making out with Steve's dick, steadying it with one hand around the base. It's surreal, and obscene, and the very idea of it would be enough, but the sight of it - his other hand still curled loosely around Steve's wrist, holding it to his hair; eyes closed, his dark lashes fanned out on his cheeks; his reddened lips sliding across the surface of Steve's cock, a slow slick drag that has Steve shuddering. Tony lifts his head for a moment, his hand dropping away from Steve's wrist to rest on his thigh. 

"This is the laziest day I've had in months," he muses, a smile tugging at his lips. His voice is warm and satisfied, and Steve is kind of starting to ache but he can't even resent the interruption. Tony looks so content.

"You deserve it," Steve says. It sounds inane, but he doesn't know how to make his sincerity clearer, except to shift his hand in Tony's hair in a kind of petting motion. Tony arches up into it like a cat, and then his smile twists, gets a little bit of a wicked edge.

“I could be lazier,” he says, rather enigmatically. Steve blinks at him, opening his mouth to ask, when Tony's hand slides up his thigh and takes hold of his hip, pulling. 

“Tones?” Steve asks, suddenly breathless. His cock jerks, though, and Tony snickers, which is sort of unfair, if Tony really just told him to do what Steve thinks he did. They’ve talked about it a little, before, but always in an abstract sort of way, and now Tony's mouth is right there, and Steve can hear his own pulse right now.

“C’mon,” Tony says, and presses another open-mouthed kiss to the side of Steve’s cock. “I’ll let you know. Three taps to the leg. I remember.” And then, because Steve is still staring mutely– “Rogers. You’re starting to make a guy feel unwelcome down here.”

“Sorry,” Steve finally gets out, a hoarse whisper. “Definitely not unwelcome.” He actually has to take a breath between the words. He works his hand deeper into Tony's hair, cradling his skull in his palm, and then touches the other to the side of Tony's face. “You’ll tell me?”

“Yes,” Tony assures him, and then presses his parted lips to the tip of Steve’s cock, his tongue flicking away the precum there, and looks up at Steve, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with anticipation.

Steve rolls his hips upwards, slow, careful, and watches himself slip deeper into Tony's mouth. Tony lets out a tiny, pleased noise that makes his soft palate thrum against Steve’s cock, and Steve’s hands tighten in his hair, trying so hard to maintain these last shreds of self-control and not just thrust with abandon like he wants to so fucking bad. Instead he moves again, still careful but a little faster now, and watches Tony's face for any signs of regret. Tony's eyes are closed, though, and there’s no tension around them whatsoever - he looks blissed-out.

“Oh my god,” Steve manages, because he needs to let Tony know how good he is, how good he makes Steve feel, and real sentences are totally unthinkable right now. Tony's jaw works under his hand, his tongue flexing as Steve pulls back. He keeps thrusting up, steadily, and he does try to keep them uniform, but Tony's mouth is so hot, and the sounds of it, wet and obscene, are driving him crazy. Tony lets out a choked whimper when he goes a little too deep, throat convulsing, and Steve backs off with a chain of _sorrysorryshitsorry,_ but Tony pets at his leg soothingly. He does not, once, lift his hand from Steve’s skin.

Steve pulls him off to let him breathe, asks if he’s okay, and Tony just nods. His jaw is slack, and he licks his lips as he catches his breath, but he seems uninterested in talking. He isn’t even meeting Steve’s eyes anymore, which would be worrisome except that he just seems to be trying so hard to get back to Steve’s cock, and he is – Steve suddenly notices – making occasional tiny movements with his hips against the sofa beneath him. He moans when Steve uses the hand in his hair to pull him close again; he moans louder when Steve thrusts, and a small part of Steve wants to drop his head back and shut his eyes to soak in the sensations, but he couldn’t look away from Tony right now if the building started to collapse. He can’t believe his goddamn luck, honestly, and he knows Tony won’t believe him but he says it anyway. “You look so good,” he murmurs, and Tony whines high up in his throat. “You look, you look incredible—”

Tony is still making a lot of noise, but there’s none of the anxiety he usually gets in his face when Steve tries to tell him this stuff, and that’s – that’s something to be examined later. He’s so receptive and sweet and Steve literally can’t believe this is happening: he’s lounging on his sofa, snowed in, an unintelligible racket of cartoons in the background, gently fucking Tony's mouth.

“So good,” he says again, because he can’t stop, not now he knows he has a free pass to tell Tonyall the things he won’t usually hear. “How did I get here, how did I get you, you’re so gorgeous, Tony, you’re so good—”  
Tony's hand tightens on his thigh at that, and he groans thickly. Steve loses his words, after that, has to just concentrate on control, even though Tony is taking everything so well, breathing deep through his nose and keeping his mouth so open, swallowing hard when Steve pulses on his tongue. Steve saves the last little bit of verbal capacity he has to stutter out, “I’m gonna come, I’m—” He drops his hands to Tony's shoulders, unwilling to give up contact but allowing him the freedom of pulling back– and he does, but god, not far. He doesn’t sit up or lean back, but keeps his face right there, fuck. 

Steve watches in disbelief as Tony takes him in hand again, pressing the tip of his tongue under the head and then stroking hard and fast until Steve can’t hold himself together anymore. He comes, all across Tony's face and hair, and Tony shuts his eyes but doesn’t flinch.

“Oh,” Steve says, faintly, his voice a crackling mess. Tony is panting, dropping his head to nuzzle into Steve’s stomach, his hand shifting from Steve’s softening cock to spread over his ribs. “Tony?”

Tony hums, a noise that says nothing more than I’m conscious, or maybe even just I’m here.

“I feel like we should talk about that,” Steve says, putting his hand over Tony's. “In a good way. That was really good. But we should talk about it.”

Tony hums again. “Not now,” he sighs, and kisses Steve’s belly again.

“No,” Steve agrees. “Hey, if you come up here, we can take care of you, too, I can—”

Tony shakes his head against him. “Not yet,” he says, although his hips make another little shift against the sofa.

“Okay.” Steve runs his palm over Tony's hair, his heart swelling at the easy contentment in Tony's voice and the mindless way he keeps trying to squirm closer. “Not yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for the abrupt ending but this just spewed out of me and I have a final in forty-five minutes


End file.
